


Unexpected Calls, Roommates, and Scones

by simonspeaks



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Abigail (OC) - Freeform, Bake Off, Baking, M/M, Mordelia centric, Mordelia gets in trouble but it never says what for, OC, Phone Calls, Roommate, Scones, She's Watford age, Simon and Mordelia have a disagreement, This just in: Mordelia loves listening to the violin/viola, and she has strong opinions, cranberry orange or sour cherry?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-29 19:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18785095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simonspeaks/pseuds/simonspeaks
Summary: Mordelia gets a call, disrupting her roommate's music. She talks with Baz and Simon about a variety of things. Simon and Mordelia have a disagreement on what the best kind of scone is, and there's only one way to determine which one it is...





	Unexpected Calls, Roommates, and Scones

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @cenvast on tumblr for looking over this for me! He helped make sure it all flowed and didn't have any blatant errors, so thank you!  
> A little bit of an early post, but with how my schedule was working out I wouldn't be able to post any new fic until at least September. So I'm going to have my posting schedule still, but if I finish something early I'll post it pretty much immediately after someone edits it for me.  
> This was based on the prompt "You're not all bad so stop acting like it" sent in by @jessethejoyful on tumblr

“Honey, why did I just get a call from Headmistress Bunce about you being in trouble for the sixth time this year? It’s only December for Merlin’s sake,” Daphne said over the telephone. 

Mordelia sighed into her mobile. “It’s not my fault my roommate doesn’t like my music.”

“No, but it is your job to try not to annoy the life out of her. Just try and get along, okay?”

“Fine. Love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too.” Daphne hung up.

_ It’s not my fault my roommate is the exact opposite of me _ . Long blond hair and pale skin dotted with freckles, Abigail was everything that Mordelia was not. 

But despite her complaining, there was one thing that she did like about her roommate. Her music. Not her music taste,  _ Merlin, that was awful, _ but her music. 

She played the viola, which reminded Mordelia of home and Baz and the late nights he would stay up just to practice a little bit more until the sweet sounds lulled her to sleep from the next room over. 

Abigail walked into their room, her plaited braids bouncing over her shoulders. 

“Hey, Mordelia!” she said in her sing-song voice.

“Hey, Abigail.” Mordelia nodded at her.

“Do you mind if I play?” Abigail pointed to her viola case. 

Mordelia shrugged. “It wouldn’t bother me in the slightest.”

Abigail lifted the bow and spread resin along it, ensuring it wouldn’t squeak as it forcefully brushed past the strings of metal. Abigail picked up her instrument and placed it safely between her chin and shoulder. 

A sweet melody soon played in the soft air of the room. Their window looking out at the courtyard was open and a cool breeze wafted in with the smell of roses. 

Mordelia’s phone started buzzing in her pocket and  _ Highway to Hell _ started playing, interrupting Abigail’s practice.

“Uh, sorry,” Mordelia said. “I’ll just stay in here and let you continue.” She closed the bathroom door behind her, turning on the light simultaneously. 

_ Baz is calling.  _

She picked up.

“Hello?”

“Mordelia, what have you done now,” Baz interrogated her.

“What do you mean?”

"I mean why are you in trouble for the sixth time this year? You’re not all bad so stop acting like it.”

“It’s not like I had the best role model,” she said pointedly, then regretted it.

Baz sighed.

“Let me talk to her,” a familiar voice from Baz’s end of the line said.

Baz handed the phone over.

“Hey, Mordelia!” Simon’s voice rang out loud and clear.  _ Thank Merlin Watford had good service _ .

A smile broke out on her face. “Hello!”

“How are you doing?” He asked, putting his therapist voice on.

Mordelia almost wanted to say  _ don’t try that shit with me _ , but she refrained. “School’s fine. Abigail’s playing her viola right now, which I was  _ listening to  _ before Baz called.”

Simon laughed. “Are you regretting making his ringtone  _ Highway to Hell _ ?” 

“I mean, it was kind of funny.”

Baz scoffed.

“Have you perfected your sour cherry scone recipe yet?” Mordelia asked Simon.

“I am  _ so close _ . Give me another couple days and I might have it down.” 

“Love, you say that every time anyone asks,” said Baz.

“Well, every time it’s true.”

“We’re gonna have to have a bake-off next time I come over to prove to you that orange cranberry scones are the best. Christmas is gonna be awesome this year!” She exclaimed. The viola suddenly stopped.  _ Oh shit, I was too loud.  _ “Alright, I have to go. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”

“Goodbye,” Simon and Baz both said and hung up. 

Mordelia pocketed her phone, putting it in her back pocket, and walked out of the bathroom. 

“Sorry if I was too loud.”

Abigail waved a hand at her, facing the wall. “No worries. It’s fine. I’m just gonna head out to the library, so bye.” She closed the door behind her.

\---

“We are not having your nasty cranberry orange scones, Mordelia.” Simon crossed his arms in front of his chest, puffing them out. 

“Baz agrees with me. They’re so good.”

Simon looked over at Baz, who was sitting on their sofa, his legs crossed one over the other. One of his arms was over the back of the sofa and the other was resting on his ankle. He raised his eyebrow amusingly, a smile dancing across his lips.

“You cannot be serious,” Simon said. “I can’t believe you’re not with me on this.”

“To be fair, I’m not taking either of your sides just yet. But perhaps one of you can persuade me.” He rested his index finger on his lips, bouncing it off every couple seconds. He stopped when he spoke. “Well, let the games begin.” He winked at Simon, who gave him a thumbs up. “Whoever can make the better scone will have the prize of finally settling the feud between sour cherry and cranberry orange scones.” He hummed, and Simon and Mordelia both walked into the open kitchen, taking out their ingredients and measuring them with care. 

By the end of their time in the kitchen they were both covered in flour, even some was splattered across their foreheads and their hair, though it was far more noticeable on Mordelia’s dark hair, which was put up in a bun, instead of hanging around her shoulders like it usually did. Simon had a large patch on his cheek, which Baz lovingly wiped off.

Simon and Mordelia each had a plate full of scones that they carried to the kitchen table, butter already set out. They each took a seat, putting down their plates on the table with care. 

Simon groaned and leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out underneath the table.

“C’mon, Simon. You have to try them. They’re  _ delicious _ .” 

He eyed them wearily, a small wrinkle above his right eyebrow coming into play. Simon begrudgingly lifted one of Mordelia’s scones to his mouth and took a bite of it. His eyes opened in amazement. “These are actually pretty good.”

“Told you so.” Mordelia stuck her tongue out at him. 

“Nobody told me that all the ones from the store were shite.”

“Oh love, you’re hopeless,” Baz said, putting a hand on Simon’s thigh. “Of course they’re shite. Homemade scones are the only good ones.”

Simon shrugged, then thought about it, and nodded. “They are pretty good.” He took a scone off his own plate. “But they will never beat the best.” He plopped a chunk of the scone into his mouth and chewed it.

Mordelia crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair. “And yours will never beat the citrusy taste of mine.” 

Baz sighed, the corner of his mouth upturned. “You two are insufferable.”

  
  



End file.
